


Moving On, But Never Forgetting

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Automobile Accident, Bucket List, Cancer, Character Death, Eventual Chris/Yuri, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, I’m sorry Beka, I’m sorry Matthieu, M/M, Memories, Moving On, Slow Burn, Trauma, please mind the tags, unexpected death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-05 14:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13389357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “And, just at the moment when someone says, ‘There, she is gone,’there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voicesready to take up the glad shout, ‘Here she comes!’And that is dying...”-Gone From My Sight, Henry van Dyke(Please mind the tags)





	1. Chapter 1

“...my best friend,” JJ was saying, eyes welling up and spilling over. “He was... we were supposed to get old together... our families... our kids were supposed to grow up together....” a few quiet sniffles and coughs could be heard from the assembled skaters seated in the reception hall that was currently the site of Otabek’s memorial.

Quite a few people had shown up to remember the hero of Kazakhstan and to pay their respects. It had been a shock when, a few short days ago, he’d been killed by a drunk driver while riding his motorcycle home from the rink. He had planned on retiring this year and focusing on his music... he and Yuri were looking into adopting children... and just like that, he was gone.

  
JJ put a hand over his eyes, fanning his face a little and trying to pull himself together before finally shaking his head and choking out, “I’m sorry,” and fleeing back to his seat and Isabella’s arms.

  
Once JJ was seated, Yuri rose and quietly made his way to the front of the hall. He was, surprisingly, the picture of composure: black suit smooth and neat, hair tied back neatly... other than the faint dark circles under his eyes, one would never know that he had just experienced the most devastating loss in all his twenty-five years.

  
The blond paused for a moment by the long table at the front of the hall that bore some of Otabek’s medals, framed pictures, and a few other mementos of his life. Yuri’s eyes flickered briefly to their wedding photo and their impossibly young and radiantly happy faces before turning to face the group and pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket.

  
“When Dedulya died, Beka and I had just started dating,” he began. His voice rang out clear and strong without a hint of wavering. “We were long distance, he was in Almaty and I was in Piter... I called him first. He stayed on the phone with me until I fell asleep and when I woke up he’d sent me a poem he found online. Neither of us were ever very religious but it was still comforting.” He unfolded the piece of paper and held it up... his wedding ring glittered on his ring finger still as he began to read.

  
“I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand watching her at length until she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says: ‘There, she is gone’”

  
He paused briefly, swallowing and taking a deep breath before continuing to read. “Gone where? Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: ‘There, she is gone,’ There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: ‘Here she comes!’” Yuri looked up and around at the others before reading the last line: “And that is dying.”

  
Sniffles, coughs and throat clearing arose from the seats as Yuri kept speaking. “It’s so comforting to think that the essence of a person... the real part of who they are... continues to live on even after their outside is gone. It does help to think that Beka, along with Dedulya, is always with me. Sure, it hurts to know that he won’t be physically there but- I can’t help but feel that Beka would much rather me celebrate his life than cry for his death...”

  
Seated a few rows back, Chris sat quietly listening to the younger talk and observing the others who had gathered for the memorial: JJ, red-eyed but now quiet and nodding along with all that Yuri spoke of, Isabella beside him with her arm around her husband’s shoulders, Leo a few seats away from them, looking quietly devastated and a little lost.

  
Directly in front of him sat Victor and Yuuri, heads bowed. It had been a bit of a surprise that they’d come, seeing that for reasons unknown once Yuuri had retired they’d moved back to Japan and effectively checked out of the Russian skating family’s lives... so much so that they’d learned of Otabek’s passing not from anyone close to them, but from a breaking news headline. Although they’d been quietly and without fuss been welcomed to the memorial by Yuri himself, Chris couldn’t help but think that maybe both of them felt more than a little guilty about how things had played out.

  
To his left sat Mila and Sara. Mila had a tissue clutched in her left hand and Sara’s hand white-knuckled in her right, alternating between watching Yuri with an intent, worried stare and dabbing her eyes.

  
In the front sat Yakov and Lilia next to Alibek and Damira Altin, Otabek’s parents. The Russian couple (who had just remarried a few months ago) looked drawn and worn out... it was no secret that the Feltsmans looked at their skaters as the children they never had, and that this loss was a huge blow to them. The Altins looked exhausted as well, Otabek had been their only child and both mother and father had to be heartbroken.

  
At last, Chris glanced back to Yuri, who stood straight and tall at the front, recounting pleasant memories of his late husband. Although to the outer eye he seemed stoic and unmoved, those who knew him well knew that he was deeply grieving his first and only love.

———————————

Chris understood this loss very well. It had only been two years since he’d gotten an anxious call from Matthieu while he was at the rink, asking him to reschedule his afternoon coaching and come home. “My test results came back, and they want me to come in....”

  
When the doctor broke the news, although she tried to do so delicately, it was like a hammer blow. Even to that day, Chris still remembered the crushing pain in his chest and the blood pounding in his ears as the doctor explained that the symptoms Matthieu had at first waved away as stress: the stomach pain, the weight loss and fatigue... these were actually slow, insidious signs of pancreatic cancer. They could try aggressive treatments, she’d added, but even then the prognosis was poor.  
Chris struggled to force out the words, “How long?” and the doctor hesitated before answering.

  
“Without treatment, four to six months. With... maybe just a little longer. It’s your choice though....”

  
In the end, Matthieu opted not to take any heroic measures to prolong his life. “I’d rather just enjoy the time I have left as feel terrible from treatments that aren’t going to do any good,” he’d told Chris. “In fact, I’d like to make some good memories while I still feel well enough.”

  
So, they’d taken a trip to Bali and Thailand (where they’d visited a sanctuary for rescued elephants, Matthieu loved elephants and it had made his day and week when one had nuzzled his hair with her trunk), visited friends in Denmark (Chris swore that the fresh sea air had done his husband some good as he looked healthier than he had for a while when they returned home after the trip) and had lunch at the Café des 2 Moulins in Montmartre (they’d both loved the movie Amélie and even before he’d gotten sick Matthieu had mentioned several times that he’d love to go there).

  
As the days moved on and Matthieu grew thinner and weaker, Chris struggled to accept that the end was coming. “Please don’t leave me,” he begged as they lay side by side one night. “Please... I need you... I can’t...” he choked up a little and Matthieu reached out with a thin, shaky hand to brush the tears from Chris’s face.

  
“I’m so sorry, babe,” he whispered. “I’ll hang on as long as I can... I’ll make it to your birthday, okay? I’ll be there. I have something for you and I want to give it to you myself. I promise.”

  
Matthieu did indeed make it to Chris’s birthday, in fact, he rallied a day before and on the actual day was feeling well enough to dress nicely and sit down at the table to eat a little takeout and some dessert from his and Chris’s favorite Italian restaurant, greeting the few friends they had invited over cheerfully and even telling jokes as they sat together for dinner.

  
Later that evening as they sat on the sofa watching a movie, Matthieu slipped a small box into Chris’s lap. “I promised you, didn’t I?” he said with a warm smile.

  
Chris choked up a little as he opened the box, lifting out a thin silver chain with a small elephant pendant attached. “Elephants never forget, right?” Matthieu reached over and lightly touched his husband’s hand. “Promise me something, Chris. First, promise me that when you think of me in the future, that you’ll think of the good times we had instead of being sad...” Chris nodded in agreement and Matthieu looked satisfied as he continued, “Next, promise me that you’ll... in good time, you’ll move on. You’re too young to just be alone the rest of your life-“

  
“You’re the only one for me,” Chris choked, shaking his head forcefully. “I can’t- I can’t even begin to-“ Matthieu held up his hand to stop Chris mid sentence and Chris fell silent.

  
“Please... promise me, Chris. Don’t stop living, don’t stop loving. Be happy... for me....”

  
———————————

  
Chris unconsciously reached up to touch the chain around his neck. It still bore the little elephant, along with his wedding ring (he’d only been able to bring himself to take it off a few weeks ago and even now still couldn’t stand the thought of the symbol of his great love languishing in a drawer or in a box somewhere, so around his neck it went). He sat, lost in thought, until he felt a nudge at his shoulder. He blinked and looked over to Mila, who was next to him.

  
“The Altins and the Feltsmans are hosting a dinner at the Feltsmans’ house and everyone is invited,” she told him quietly. He nodded and stood, making his way to the back of the hall where the family stood in a little clump.

  
He went to Yakov and Lilia first, offering his sincere condolences before doing the same with the Altins. Lastly, he turned to Yuri.

  
“Hi, Chris,” the younger man greeted him quietly, still composed but sounding utterly wrung out. He held out his hand for a handshake and Chris immediately took it with a nod. “Thank you for coming today.”

  
“I’m sorry, Yuri,” Chris replied. “I’m so very sorry....” He squeezed the other’s hand a little. “It’s tough, I know-“ the question Yuri asked next caught him momentarily off guard.

  
“How long?” Yuri said, voice cracking a little.

  
“How long what?” Chris replied, puzzled. Yuri inhaled deeply and swallowed hard before replying.

  
“How long until you stop feeling like you’re dying too?” Oh. Poor guy....

  
“It takes time,” Chris answered honestly. “You just... have to hang in there and keep going forward.” The blond nodded a little and finally released Chris’s hand.

  
“Thank you,” he said quietly. Chris nodded one more time and turned to leave... before he could go anywhere, Yuri took a few wobbly steps forward, his knees buckled and he slumped to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Uncle Yura?” Misha ventured after another brief period of silence. “Is...” the little boy’s voice wobbled a bit as he asked, “Is Uncle Beka really an angel now?”

The sound of Yuri’s phone ringing on his nightstand brought him around to consciousness. Blinking and rubbing his eyes, he slowly reached for it, answering immediately when his vision focused and he was able to read the caller ID.

  
“Hey, Yura,” the voice on the other end said when he picked up with a sleepy hello. “Did I wake you? Damn, I’m sorry... I just wanted to check on you-“

  
“Hey, Gosha,” Yuri yawned and stretched a little before putting his phone on speaker. He was actually glad to hear from Georgi at that moment. “It’s fine, I really need to get up anyway. How are YOU feeling?”

  
“Like a new person, actually, my stomach is a little sore but otherwise... I really feel great.” Yuri was glad to hear that his former rinkmate (turned friend as the years went on) was doing much better.

  
“Good,” he replied, scratching Potya’s ears as she leapt up onto the bed beside him. “I’ve heard gallbladder problems are a special kind of hell... I’m just glad they figured out what was wrong with you. I know you’ve been feeling like shit for a while now.”

  
“Yeah...” Georgi’s voice trailed off for a moment before he continued almost hesitantly, “Yura, I’m really sorry I wasn’t able to be there yesterday. I was going to have Tatiana go in my place-“

  
“I talked to her, Gosha,” Yuri interrupted quickly. “I told her to stay with you. You just had surgery not too long ago... you focus on getting back on your feet, okay? I have people here with me and I’ll come see you in a few days when you’ve had a little time to rest.” Just then, Yuri heard excited voices on the other end and couldn’t help but smile. “Do I hear the kids? Can you put them on?” Georgi chuckled and after a short muffled conversation, his two young children greeted Yuri excitedly.

  
“Hi Uncle Yura,” Mikhail squealed gleefully. Mikhail was six and had recently started skating himself. He absolutely idolized Yuri and told everyone he could get to listen that he wanted “an Agape costume like Uncle Yura’s”. His younger sister Natalya could also be heard in the background shouting that she wanted to talk to Uncle Yura too.

  
“Hi, Misha,” Yuri grinned from ear to ear. The boy’s happy little voice was like a balm to his tired and broken heart. “How are you, buddy? Is your sister there too?”

  
“UNCLE YURA!!!” Natalya shrieked. She was three, bubbly and chatty. “Hi, Uncle Yura!”

  
“Hey, both of you,” Yuri answered lightly. “Are you taking good care of your dad?”

  
“Yes!” They both exclaimed and immediately launched into a narrative of all the things they’d done to assist in their papa’s care, including bringing him tea and putting on plays for his entertainment... after a few minutes of this, suddenly and without warning, Natalya piped, “Where’s Uncle Beka?”

  
Everyone else fell dead silent. Yuri swallowed hard and tried to think up an easy and simple way to explain what had happened without upsetting the child too much... fortunately for now, Georgi’s wife could be heard calling Natalya for something and that was enough to distract her. “Love you, Uncle Yura! Bye bye!”

  
“Goodbye, Natasha,” Yuri said softly, swallowing again to try to force down the lump in his throat.

  
“Uncle Yura?” Misha ventured after another brief period of silence. “Is...” the little boy’s voice wobbled a bit as he asked, “Is Uncle Beka really an angel now?”

  
_Oh no_ , Yuri thought to himself. _Please, Misha, please don’t cry, buddy... if you cry I might cry too..._ after another pause, he cleared his throat and spoke.  
“Yes, Misha, Uncle Beka is an angel.” He tried to put as much cheer and warmth into his voice as he could, for both his sake and the child’s. “He’s a good, big, strong angel that watches over us... God picked him just for us! Even if you can’t see him, he’s right there. In fact, you could say hi to him every once in a while, he’d love that.” Yuri still wasn’t particularly religious but in this time, the thought of his beloved as an angel always close by gave him some comfort.

  
“Will he be there when I skate?” Misha asked. He sounded a little less upset and Yuri felt a wave of relief washing over him.

  
“Of course! You know he always loved watching you... that’s not going to change now.”

  
“Thank you, Uncle Yura,” Misha replied quietly and Yuri smiled a little.

  
“What I want you to do now, is reach over and hug your dad, okay? Carefully, so you don’t hurt his stomach... then go hug your mama, and your sister, and make sure to always tell them how much you love them. That will make Uncle Beka and me both really happy.”

  
“Okay...” Misha sniffled a little. “Bye bye, Uncle Yura, I love you.”

  
“Love you too, buddy,” Yuri answered warmly and after a little fumbling and noise on the other end, Georgi returned to the line.

  
“God, Yura, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry that you... had to handle that.”

  
“I just didn’t want him to be too upset,” Yuri answered softly. “I... I’ll be fine, Gosha. Sure, this is killing me but I’ll make it through-“ _eyes of a soldier_ , he thought to himself. _Oh Beka... I don’t feel much like a soldier right now...._

  
“You be sure to call us if you need anything, and I do mean anything,” Georgi told him. At that moment a movement at his half-open door caught his eye and he looked up to see JJ standing there. When the Canadian noticed Yuri was on the phone he gave a small wave and mouthed that he’d be right back. Yuri nodded and turned his attention to the phone call again.

  
“I will, Gosha. Give everyone my love, I’ll come see you in a few days.” After a few more pleasantries they both hung up and JJ returned.

  
“How are you feeling, Yuri?” he asked cautiously as he sat down next to the younger man.

  
Yuri rubbed his eye a little and answered, “I really am fine, JJ. I think I just passed out yesterday because I hadn’t eaten or slept much for the past two days. I actually feel a lot better after getting some sleep.”

  
JJ still looked concerned as he asked, “Are you hungry now? Bella said she’d make you something when you got up-“ just as he was saying so Isabella entered the room with a plate and mug.

  
“I heard you talking in here,” she held out the plate to Yuri, it held two pieces of buttered toast and some fruit, “I made you something light and some tea.” Yuri received both items with a grateful thanks and Isabella sat down on the other side of him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I put away all the dishes in the dish rack and washed the ones in the sink, and fed Miss Potya.” Yuri had noticed that the cat had left while he was on the phone, that was probably why.

  
JJ hesitantly fiddled with the edge of his sleeve before venturing, “Um, Yuri? I finished the laundry you had in the laundry room and... uh...” he took a deep breath and gulped a little before continuing, “There were... there were some of- of his clothes in there, I didn’t know what you wanted me to do with them.” He immediately looked away, a guilty expression crossing his face as if he felt bad for even daring to bring it up so soon. 

  
“Oh.” Yuri had until now completely forgotten that he’d put in a load of Otabek’s clothes to wash the morning of the accident. He’d had no idea at the time... he reached out to put a hand on JJ’s arm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. He certainly didn’t want his friend to feel guilty for helping him. “Okay, just... bring them in and we’ll put them in the closet. I’m- not quite ready to get rid of any of his stuff yet....” he rubbed his forehead forcefully and both JJ and Isabella moved in to hug him tightly. Yuri squeezed back just as tightly... poor JJ, poor Isabella... they were hurting too and Yuri was beyond thankful that they were there with him.

  
“Thank you both,” he whispered. “Thank you....” the couple just nodded in a choked silence.  
“We- we’re here, Yuri,” JJ rasped. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.”  
____________________________

After a night of sleep that wasn’t particularly restful (his dreams had been filled with Beka calling his name and no matter how hard Yuri tried to get to him, he always remained just out of reach), Yuri awakened to a fluffy warmth beside him. He reached out and pulled Potya to him, cuddling her tightly as a few tears slipped from his eyes. The old cat, sensing her human papa’s distress, began licking the tears from his cheeks with her little sandpaper tongue, causing Yuri to chuckle a little.

  
“Oh, Potya,” he said quietly, “you better hang in here for at least ten more years, got it?” The ragdoll purred gently and rubbed her face against his chin.

  
After another cuddle session with his beloved cat, Yuri picked up his phone, and bracing himself for the bucket load of notifications he expected to have, opened Instagram. He wasn’t sure he wanted to post anything, but maybe looking at other people’s posts would be a distraction for now. He decided to check his DMs first- and noted a message, sent yesterday from “christophe_gc”. Chris.

  
_Hey Yuri,_ the message read. _I meant to tell you yesterday that if there was anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I am terribly sorry for your loss and you have my deep sympathy._ He’d included his phone number at the end of the message.

  
“That’s nice,” Yuri said quietly. Chris really understood... he’d lost his husband to cancer. Cancer was such a terrible disease... even though Yuri had an unending well of gratitude for the support of JJ and Isabella, Mila and Sara, Georgi and his family, Yakov and Lilia and Mr and Mrs Altin... it would be nice to have someone to talk to that had dealt with the loss of a spouse.

  
Yuri carefully saved Chris’s number to his phone before typing out a reply. _hey chris,_ he wrote. _thank you so much for messaging me. i appreciate it, and i greatly appreciate you coming to beka’s memorial. i have some things i need to get wrapped up around here, but i’ll call you in the next day or two. thanks again._

On a whim he attached a picture of Potya lounging on the foot of his bed... a few minutes later, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Chris messaged him back: _No problem! Take care of yourself first, okay?_ and he too had attached a photo of his cat, a regal, fluffy white creature. Yuri couldn’t help but smile at that... at least for now, he felt an odd sense of peace. He only hoped that he could hold onto a little of that peace for the days to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M SORRY (sob)
> 
> It gets better I promise  
> JJ and Isabella Leroy are Good People (tm)  
> I’m still sorry tho  
> Gallbladders are little bitches, they can give you so much trouble but once they’re out you have a new lease on life... poor Georgi tho

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry for the cliffhanger  
> Spoiler alert Yuri’s okay it’s his poor nerves  
> I’ll try to update quickly  
> Angst is hard for me  
> Help I’m in hell


End file.
